


A Promise

by freckledshoulderblades



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, because someone in chat said pikexsarenrae and, let's be real this is just an excuse for lesbians, not beta'd so have fun with this trainwreck, not that lesbians need an excuse to be fair, okay this was honestly written in two hours in between watching the new crit role and programming, sometimes gods fall in love with mortals and sometimes it works out okay, whoops i did the thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 11:36:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11356704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freckledshoulderblades/pseuds/freckledshoulderblades
Summary: It's not often a goddess falls in love with a mortal.Or, a promise in the form of a life lived in service and the moments within.





	A Promise

When Pike Trickfoot is nine years old, she tells her Paw-Paw she's in love.

He smiles in that endearing 'Oh, honey' way he does, pats her on the shoulder, and returns to his ancient scripts. She stomps her foot at him.

"Paw-Paw!" she squeaks. "You gotta listen to me!"

Wilhand sighs a long suffering sigh and turns back to his granddaughter. His eyes twinkle when he responds, bending down to place the tiny gnome on his knee. "Yes, dear pickle."

"I love Sarenrae!" she squeaks out, strong and determined.

He laughs - he doesn't mean to, but it's too damn cute. "I love Her too, kiddo."

She bops him on the nose, face screwed up in frustration. "No, Paw-Paw. I _love_  her!"

He considers the idea seriously for a moment. "Well, pickle, there's a couple things you can do about that." She nods, all too serious for a gnome of her age. Wilhand shuffles her around on his knee until she's more comfortable, reaching far across his desk to grasp at a well worn book.

He flips it open to a bookmarked page, shows her what it says.

Pike looks up at him expectantly. "A cleric?"

Wilhand nods, smiling wide. "What better way to show Her your love?"

 

 

Pike is eighteen when she finishes her training at the abbey in Westruun, sweat dripping down her brow and mace heavy at her side. The Abbess smiles warmly at her, dismissing the other fighters she'd triumphed over, before gesturing her close.

"You have done well, child." she speaks, and Pike feels a warmth emanate from her holy symbol. "I would have you complete one last task before you head home."

She nods, not trusting herself to speak. The Abbess gestures towards the inner sanctum of their abbey and lowers her head.

"I would have you speak with our Lady. Few have such a strong connection as you."

Her feet move of her own accord, her heart thumping in her chest. Pike touches the holy symbol hanging around her neck and breathes in, out, willing her anxiety away.

She approaches the minimalistic shrine, the only decoration in the small room, and kneels.

"My Lady," she begins, and she hears footsteps behind her almost instantly. Pike suppresses the grin that threatens to creep onto her face.

"My champion." she hears from next to her as the footfalls stop. Pike cracks open her eye, glancing over slightly. A woman kneels next to her, dark skin illuminated by the light she exudes. White hair falls over her shoulders and pools onto the stonework below, shifting slightly when she turns to Pike. Her mouth quirks up, slow and sweet. "Hello, my sweet."

The tips of Pike's ears go red. "Hello." she responds awkwardly.

Sarenrae chuckles lightly, glancing at the altar. "You've done well to make it this far, my champion." She gives the figurine a quizzical look. "Do you think it's odd, that I come here in this form?" she wonders aloud.

Pike shakes her head. "Not at all, my Lady."

The goddess puts her hands together, as if to pray. She remains silent for a moment, before imitating Pike and cracking open a single eye to gaze at her champion, smile widening. "I've been speaking to Lavras as of late."

Sarenrae turns her full attention on Pike, who flushes pink. "You have quite the life ahead of you, my sweet."

"I- I- Thanks?" She squeaks out, blush deepening to a vibrant red at her impropriety. Pike turns back to the altar and shuts her eyes out of embarrassment.

She feels a small shift in the air as lips brush against her cheek and Pike can't be sure, but she thinks she resembles a tomato far more than the distinguished cleric her Abbess believes. "Call upon me if need arises." she hears, and then nothing.

Pike takes a deep breath and restrains her strong urge to swear.

 

 

Pike meets Vox Machina when she's twenty-two, and dies six months later.

She remembers the pain of her body splitting in two and then nothing, like her mind wanted to shield her from the experience.

_Or_ , she thinks as she looks at her surroundings, _maybe not my mind_.

Sarenrae stands from a simple chair placed next to a hearth, placing a well worn book on a small table. Pike thinks it all looks familiar, but between the fog in her mind and her Goddess in front of her, she can't be certain.

"Oh, my sweet." her Lady speaks, and it sounds...sad, somehow. She looks up at Sarenrae, but it feels like forever until she meets golden eyes with her own. "You're not quite finished yet."

Pike feels lips on her forehead, and then nothing.

 

Pike awakes with a start, bolting up with a ragged gasp and a shock of pain. Her friends surround her with tearful eyes and gifts in the temple of Sarenrae - her temple.

"Well fuck." she says. Pike feels for her holy symbol and looks it over.

It's glowing with a dim amber light that quickly fades. She's given a moment to ponder what that could mean when Scanlan throws himself on her, sobbing.

"Pikey, we lost you. We lost you and / _I_ almost lost you and-" he breaks off into incomprehensible gibberish. Pike pats his back awkwardly, a lump rising in her throat.

Grog falls to his knees and hugs the two of them with one arm, fat tears rolling down his gray face. "I can't be a monstah without you." he says, and she starts sobbing, holding her holy symbol and silently thanking her Lady.

 

 

When Pike is twenty-five they're fighting Vorugal and losing and _gods_ , Pike's not ready to lose another one of her friends so soon so she grabs her holy symbol and squeezes tight and whispers, "Help us." under her breath and -

Two light footfalls next to her, a hand on her shoulder. Dark skinned lips twist into a sad smile and Sarenrae caresses her cheek.

"I will do what I can." she says, and disappears.

A column of light erupts from the heavens and strikes Vorugal, knocking the Frigid Doom flat on his back. Pike whispers her thanks even as she hears Vax whoop from across the battlefield, a grin spreading across her face.

They can do this.

 

 

Pike gets blackout drunk on her thirty-third birthday, celebrating with the friends she's brought back from death too many times to count, when Percy asks her who she loves. It's a question that's come up fairly often in the decade Vox Machina has traveled together and this time she's just the right mixture of drunk and nostalgic to answer.

"It's Sarenrae, of course." she stage whispers to him, and he guffaws.

"My dear Pike," he says, hand on his chest and she likes the way his newly forged ring sits on his finger, catching the light and demanding attention, "I can't believe you would sink so low as to _lie_  to me, _Percival De Rolo_."

She fixes him with a hard stare, something that's proving difficult with the amount she's had to drink. "'M not lyin'." she slurs.

Percy appraises her, blinking slowly. "No, I suppose you aren't." he responds, and she smiles.

"Bet you thirty thousand gold you can't say your name right now." Pike jokes, and he holds out a hand for her to shake.

She wins the bet, of course.

 

 

Sarenrae visits her when she's thirty-four, when she's thirty-seven, when she's pushing forty and contemplating a dangerous bounty deep in the Underdark.

"You shouldn't take it," Pike hears, a low voice murmured into her ear. "I won't be able to help you."

She almost swears, just to piss her Lady off. "I don't like being underground anyways." she says, and Sarenrae hums thoughtfully.

"Good. You have a while yet."

Pike wonders what happens when the timer Sarenrae has put on her life expires. It's not the first time she's had this thought.

Sarenrae leans in close, frames her small face in dark hands. "You will be by my side, in the end." she whispers, and kisses between Pike's brow.

She doesn't blush, not anymore. She leans into the touch and reaches up to grip her hands tight, sighs when the feeling fades away and she's alone in her room.

 

 

Pike takes a bounty when she's fifty-two, Grog at her side. They've both accumulated enough scars that the locals don't even ask if they need supplies anymore - they know what they're doing.

_Of course_ , she thinks, _we knew what we were doing at thirty, we just didn't have the markings to show for it_.

The bounty is a dragon - a white dragon, of course - in the frigid mountains to the north. Grog stands, a bulwark at her side, and gives their quarry an evil grin.

"Wanna be a monstah?" he asks, and his voice is deep and gravelly. Pike snarls out a matching grin.

"We're monstahs." she replies, and they charge their mark.

Sarenrae watches the battle from a distance - she seems to watch over most everything Pike does nowadays. Grog doesn't quite understand who she is, but her Lady finds it amusing that he refers to her as Pike's girlfriend. He thinks it's even funnier that she can beat him at arm wrestling, even with his Titanstone Knuckles on.

When the battle is over with not even a minute passed, Pike meets her Lady at the edge of the forest clearing, wiping sweat from her brow. She presents a dragon's tooth, hurriedly wiping the various viscera off of it.

Sarenrae accepts it, turning it over curiously. A slow smile spreads across her face, and she leans down to peck Pike on the cheek.

"You've done well, my sweet."

Grog mumbles something about domesticity in the plain way he can and Pike beams, spitting out blood.

 

 

When Pike is sixty-four, she lays down her mace in the temple she helped rebuild in Vasselheim. She strips out of her armor, places her holy symbol on the bedside table next to her, and slips into bed with creaking bones.

She's not that old, she keeps reminding herself. But god, she's died enough times that it's taken a toll on her, on her body.

On her lifespan.

Pike slips into sleep with an enviable ease.

Sarenrae greets her as she always does in her dreams - seated in a large chair next to a hearth as she thumbs through an ancient book. She looks up at the sudden footsteps, smiling wide.

"Oh, my sweet." she says. "You've finally come home."

Pike looks around her and for the first time she sees her home in Westruun, the life she had growing up with Wilhand. She looks down, at her hands, and sees the hands she had at thirty, before they became mottled and scarred from acid and fire. This is new. She looks up at Sarenrae, at the hearth. This is  _permanent_.

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes and she thinks of Grog, of how she left him too soon.

"Don't worry, my champion." her Lady speaks, and Pike looks up at her. "He has yet a life to live, and I will watch over him in time."

"I would have you join me, if you felt so inclined," she continues. She almost sounds nervous.

Pike kneels. "Of course, my Lady."

Sarenrae stands from the chair and gently lifts Pike to her feet. "Not as my champion."

Her brow furrows. "How do I serve you, my Lady?"

Sarenrae kneels in turn, framing Pike's small face with her hands. "As an equal," she breathes, closing the distance between them.

The kiss is nothing short of awkward, the difference between their heights and the fact that Pike's never actually done this before. The thought makes her laugh. Sixty-four and the only kiss she's received is from a fucking _goddess_.

Her Lady presses their foreheads together, the corners of her mouth turned down. "Surely it was not so terrible." she pouts, and Pike giggles, wipes her thumb over Sarenrae's cheek.

She leans in again, presses their lips together briefly, and steps back just enough to murmur, "Not at all."

**Author's Note:**

> i love sarenrae and i love pike and that explains this fic  
> and now i need to get back to the other eighteen tabs i have open for writing  
> godspeed, r&r, comments are welcome and honestly highly encouraged


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